Twelve Days of Courage
by Seta Suzume
Summary: Dios is braver than he realizes.


A Dearth of Self-Confidence

Dios looked in the mirror and ran the comb through his hair, smoothing down an awkward lock that had strayed upward to point slightly off to the side. When his hair disobeyed the dictates of the comb he was certain it made him look like a complete fool, particularly if he cam out that way onto the parade ground in front of the soldiers. There, that was better. Satisfied with the state of his hair, he took a moment to run the comb along his sideburns and smiled at himself. The presence of the mirror caused him to gradually exaggerate the expression, his cheeks rising higher and his lips spreading further until his teeth were more bared, like some ferocious animal's, than a gentleman's smile.

"How foolish," he scolded himself, tucking the comb away into his jacket. He reappraised himself in the mirror, this time with a somber expression and he returned his military cap, black with a single white stripe, to the top of his head. He wished that he were half the confident officer he looked. Here he was, preparing to head out on his second campaign as a strategist for Bishop Sasarai (and his first campaign where he would be working with Sasarai from the beginning) and he still had so many doubts- about his tactical ability, his connection to Sasarai, and that masked bishop from Campanella, not to mention his marriage. He was going to have to behave himself perfectly during the campaign and write home to Kina regularly or she was going to have his hide. He had the feeling that there was absolutely no way he would enjoy himself this time, between the thorniness of his marital situation, the slight friction between the commanders, and their destination- the Grasslands.

The Grasslands were the most troubling region of the entire continent as far the Counsel, the bishops, and every member of the Harmonian military were concerned. Various part of these vast plains had belonged to Harmonia at one time or another, but it had really been since the 330s that the trouble had been continuous with the La'Pietra Land Grab and its subsequent backlash forming a cycle of ebbing and advancing Harmonian sovereignty in the area that only coalesced into something relatively permanent following the catastrophic end to the Fire Bringer Revolt. With the fifty year ceasefire with the Grasslands half a month expire, the predatory forces of the Central and Northwestern Harmonian regional armies were already moving into position, taking a course determined upon about six months prior.

Dios did not relish the prospect of working alongside either General Rimini, his former employer, or the enigmatic Campanellan bishop and his Silverberg for hire. There was nothing a Silverberg could do for him but make him look bad, and the last thing he wanted was for his contribution to be devalued in Sasarai's eyes. "Last hired, first fired," the business saying went, and Dios felt his place in Sasarai's staff was still, almost three years after the HighEast Revolt, something of a trial run (it didn't matter that Albert's time with him had been less- he was a Silverberg and that made up for youth and lack of practical experience). The opinions that mattered in Sasarai's personal circle judged him less than worthy. Lena Suphina, head of his guard, was cool and aloof, while Nika, some sort of long-serving handmaid, was openly skeptical. Although was used to being judged harshly and as such was ready to brush off their stances as easily as water from a duck's wing, he knew that with Sasarai their impressions carried weight. He could not afford to take them as lightly as they took him.

When he arrived at the appointed meeting place, Sasarai was already there waiting for him.

"Am I late?" he worried. He had far too many things to worry about right now. His confidence was getting close to an all time low.

"Late?" the bishop chirped. His eyes were wide and innocent (or mock-innocent. It was hard to tell with Sasarai). "I'd say not. If my keeping of the time is correct, it's only about one fifteen. The meeting isn't scheduled to begin until the half hour. And as you can see, neither Albert, nor Rimini, nor our masked ally are here yet. I have a bad tendency to get distracted when I walk through the city alone, so I decided it would be best to leave my quarters early and just wait it out if I arrived before time."

Dios nodded. It was reasonable enough. He folded his gloved hands behind his back and waited silently with Sasarai. A desert breeze came out of the cliffs to the west. Sasarai smiled to himself as he looked toward the city. Dios had no idea what sort of thoughts occupied his quick, clever mind, but he was sure that they had nothing to do with a lack of self-esteem. Sasarai knew who he was and was glad in that knowledge. He had a place and a purpose that could never be taken from him.

Well, that was something, Dios told himself. At least he wasn't one of those subordinates who had to be worried for the prospects of their commanding officer. Sasarai was doing perfectly fine on his own.

**First, You Survive**

In retrospect, Dios couldn't say what had caused him to awaken around 4:40 that morning. Perhaps it had been a premonition of the trouble that was soon to follow. He had always been an early riser, but even on a campaign this was extreme. Lying on his cot in the dark, he found he couldn't convince himself to drift back to sleep, so he began his usual routine, sitting up and mumbling some prayers. He tried to think about the words and really mean them, instead of just reciting them out of habit, and was having some success until his pious thoughts were interrupted by the strange sound of snapping wood.

"What's that?" He got up, but because he was only dressed in his socks and undergarments, he stopped at the edge of the tent, poking his head out into the dim light of the overcast sky. The faintest tinge of a rosy dawn was peeking between the clouds, casting shades of pink across their misty gray edges. It looked like it would be another dreary day in the Grasslands.

There was nothing out of the ordinary immediately before him and the snapping sound seemed to have stopped, but he craned his neck from side to side just to make sure. To his left, a guard was slumped over. His lantern must have gone out quite recently as the wick still smoldered inside the glass. Sleeping on the job, eh? There was no room for that around here. However, just as Dios was about to snap at him to get up and pay attention, some instinct warned him that something was not quite right about the slumbering guard. He had terrible luck and, more often than not, following his initial gut reaction seemed like a surefire way to bungle any situation, but this feeling was different than usual. It wasn't just some vague impression, but something developed of experience- perhaps a memory of the debacle in Higheast. He had learned at least half a dozen valuable lessons there. As excruciating to Harmonian national pride as it was to admit it, they all had.

The anxious fear that prickled the hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright also drove him to tiptoe out of the tent and approach the lazy guard despite his unofficial attire. He reached out to touch the man's shoulder, then drew back his hand in a flash of insight. Between the soldier's helmet and shoulder plate was splash of blood, running from his slashed throat and down into his armor. There were enemies in the camp.

The chill of the early morning air heightened his senses. He didn't see anything else suspicious and the only sounds that caught his ears were the general rustlings of the wind through tall grass and tent lazily secured with non-regulation knots. If they meant to make an attack on the encampment, the main force had clearly not arrived yet. The Safir would not turn up a chance to fall upon sleeping and thus unsuspecting prey. They had already shown their extreme inability to deal peacefully with the invading Harmonian forces in their dealings with Bishop Sasarai and Sir Ciaran the day before. They had refused to come to any sort of settlement and, even worse, had not allowed the Harmonian delegation to leave their town peacefully, but had fired on the bishop and his entourage, leaving Sasarai with a bothersome wound to his shoulder.

Whatever spies they had sent had to be around here somewhere. He could not hope to find and disable them on his own, but he could take advantage of his early awakening to spread the alarm. It was at this point that his mind really began to race. Who should he go to first? How much time did he have? Had the signal for the attack already been sent out?

He remembered a bit of advice General Rimini had offered him during his unpleasant stint in the unsavory little man's service- to live everyday on the battlefield as though it might be his last. He wouldn't usually care much for such a pessimistic viewpoint, but in this case the words seemed pragmatic. If he had only the time to speak with one person here before the rain of their foes' arrows fell like the November sleet in Beilan, whether they would live or die because of his words, that person would have to be Bishop Sasarai.

Leaving the dead man, he ran through the wet grass with no regard for anything else. The eerie situation unfolded further as he made his way in such haste without being stopped and questioned by any other guards. The only such sentry he saw along his way was as cold and lifeless as the last. Had the spies of the Safir taken a similar path to his own? He stumbled on a twig as he was struck by the horrifying possibility- had they come here as scouts or assassins, aiming to defeat the snake by striking at its head? Sasarai had come to the Grasslands without his longest serving staff members at his side. Lena Suphina did not stand watch over his sleep nor did his maidservant Nika slumber nearby. Although the attack in the Safir village had been a surprise, the fact that the bishop of all people present had been injured served as an indicator of how thin his current protection truly was.

Not only was he bereft of any armor, but he carried no blade or weapon with which he could expect to have any ability to deter the possible attackers, but there was no time to think of such things. Dios pressed onward. His face was hot despite the chill remaining in the air. His only fear now was that he would not reach his goal fast enough. It never occurred to him to call for help.

There it was. It was the second largest tent, following the open-sided one that served as an impromptu shelter for the cooks. The banners, blue and white and gold, danced a jumpy folk dance in the air above his bishop's resting place. The off-white flap to the tent was flickering closed before his very eyes. Adrenaline rushed through his system, giving him the extra burst of speed necessary to burst across the small open area and into the tent without a second thought for his own safety. He tackled the shadowy figure had barely glimpsed and they fell to the floor in a heap. For a few moments his mind was filled with the task of wrestling this invader to the ground, but as the shock of the initial jolt was wrung free from his head, he became aware of the rest of the confusion around him. Heiyo and Wyndyl had already come to their bishop's aid and sparks flew as metal clashed with metal as Heiyo leapt over an overturned trunk to strike at one of the attackers.

Things were coming to him one bit at a time. Two of the attackers, including the one currently pinned in his grasp were female. All three were Safir. Sasarai had awoken and his green eyes surveyed the action with a surprising degree of calm considering that he was personally under attack. However, the size of those eyes gave some indication that he might not be as serene in the eye of this storm as he initially appeared to be.

The woman struggled under his weight, but Dios employed his greater size to hold her down. It was unlikely that she realized how truly fortunate she had been to be taken down by the strategist than one of guardsmen. It was only moments before both of the other would-be assassins were cut down before the bishop's owl-like eyes.

When Heiyo, blood spattered across the front of his dark blue uniform, bowed to the bishop, inquiring as to his well being, all these things that had seemed to be moving so fast began to slow down to their usual speed, starting with the beating of his heart. "I'm quite well, thanks to all of you," Sasarai thanked them. He made no special mention of Dios' presence, but as Wyndyl took possession of the Safir woman, hauling her off for interrogation, his narrow eyes met the bishop's own youthfully wide ones and he knew that his deed had been noted.

It was only as Heiyo urged him out of the tent to, "Allow His Excellency to compose himself," that Dios became aware of his attire and, with Heiyo grinning good-humoredly after him, slunk back off to his own quarters to make himself presentable.

Quenched

"Dios, who's in charge of the troops from Le Buque? Are they with the bishop from Campanella?" Sasarai asked, looking down from the center of the camp toward the mantors shining in the setting sun. It was just past six o'clock. Usually they would be eating dinner at about this time, but some camp disturbances had delayed meals throughout the Central Regional Army. To take his mind off the delay, Sasarai had decided to make another survey of the camp.

"Yes, sir, the _Sunheibou_ bishop let him take them as part of his forces. I think it had something to do with their familiarity with the region." Dios couldn't say he knew much about how they were being utilized on the battlefield, but he had seen how they were being treated around the camp. It bothered him to see discrimination in the military. The men from Le Buque were working just as hard as everyone else.

"They're with Tjasse?" Sasarai continue curiously, but his voice was lost in the chatter of the troops, scuffing of impatient horses, and snap of fire as someone accidentally set a bag of fire scrolls alight. There had been a lot of trouble with the scrolls since crossing the Harmonia-Grasslands border, so it was easy to determine the cause of the popping and snapping. However, it didn't render either of them any less surprised.

Dios flinched so sharply that his cap jumped form his head to the ground. "I- I've got to see to that," Sasarai spluttered, twirling on his heel to dash off toward the supply tents.

"W-wait for me, sir!" Dios yelped, tripping over his own boots as he scrambled to pick up his hat and follow after his commanding officer. He had never realized Sasarai could move so fast. Usually he walked about fairly leisurely in the camp because of his laid-back nature. He took in the battlefield from horseback. By the time he caught up to the bishop, a sizable plume of smoke had appeared in the still air above the supply tents.

"Hap, do you know what could've caused the sparks that started this?" Sasarai pressed the familiar sergeant.

"I, uh, just got here myself, sir," he nervously scratched at his mustache.

"Kappar? Leszlo?" Sasarai approached the smoking tent. What he assumed to be the gab of scrolls was thoroughly charred and still steaming, but soaked to inflammability by a well-aimed water spell. The problem now was that the fire had spread to the tent itself and threatened to jump from there throughout the camp. The dry plants of the Grasslands in summer posed a serious thereat to not only the Harmonian Army, but to the Chisha lands around them as well.

"Sir!" Father Kappar saluted rigidly, "We're trying to squelch the blaze, but it's not that simple! The oil we were storing for cooking has acted as an accelerant!" He snapped out the words at a mile a minute. Sasarai admired the way he managed to be so brisk and concise. If this was how Kappar conducted himself on the battlefield as well, a commendation might be in order.

Leszlo had rushed too close to the blaze and now he retreated, coughing from smoke inhalation. "It needs a stronger spell," he choked, shaking his head. Kappar smacked him with a blast of healing wind to clear his lungs.

"Do we have mages from Kin-Nyang? Is there someone you want me to summon?" Dios asked, tense and ready to spring off as soon as the word was given.

"I'll do it myself. Stand back." A flicker of lapping flames was now visible against the rapidly blackening sky. He pushed past Kappar and Leszlo, as well as the haphazard bucket brigade that Hap had formed.

Dios hesitated, folding his hands to keep himself from reaching out to yank the bishop back. In place of his guards, he felt it was his responsibility to protect Sasarai (and he didn't want to face the same recriminations the mercenary liaison Ciaran had when he was blamed for the incident in the Safir Clan lands). Of course, there was added difficulty in looking after someone who seemed to resist being defended. He had to stay back when he was warned away, even if it pained him to see Sasarai approach the intractable blaze. Knowing when to hold one's ground was also a form of courage.

Just as knowing one's limits was. And Sasarai knew this fire-fighting effort was within his scope. "O water that sustains our life, condense here to quench these raging flames," he spread the fingers of his left hand toward the flames and the water rune embedded there obeyed his call, drenching all three supply tents and the soldiers around them.

"Excellent, sir," Dios clapped. The sound was decidedly muffled as a result of his wet gloves.

"Someone bring the bishop a towel," Leszlo commanded a hesitating group of gawking foot soldiers. Several shook off their stupor and saluted, rushing off to tend to a task it would take only one of them to complete.

Dios took off his jacket. It was dry inside. "There you are for now, Your Excellency." He draped the indigo garment over the bishop's small shoulders.

"Thank you, Dios." His stomach growled. "...I hope there aren't anymore delays in our dinner."

**An Enchantment for Optimism**

Dios had finally seen enough magic used in the field to consider himself somewhat knowledgeable about its uses and varieties. In general, more of what he had seen employed by his opponents (in this case, focusing on Bishop Luc and his entourage) in the Grasslands had focused around illusions and manipulations of others' powers against them, while more of the magic employed by the forces from Dunan during that failed reclamation of Highland had been simple offensive spells. He supposed that it stood to reason then, based on the trickiness of the enchantments they had faced recently, that they had had a greater effect on Sasarai's overall level of energy and general outlook than the straightforward magic volleys in Highland had.

In the former Highland region, Sasarai had taxed his defensive capabilities to their limit and suffered magic burns form the attacks that broke through his shield. The magic burns were nothing compared to what he felt now. His lids hung low over his eyes and he sat languidly in a white chair outside the restaurant. He looked like an invalid. Dios suppressed a shudder over his superior officer's pitiful state. At least not he was back in uniform. The first day after their arrival, he had gone about outside in a spare pair of pants with a shirt borrowed from Nash. It had not been a particularly good look for him. The light being shed on Harmonia as a result of this notable bishop sulking about and staring at unusual passerby was not on the positive side either.

Around Budehuc Castle, Dios received even more unsolicited opportunities to see magic at work. Jeane's shop was busy with the selling and affixing of runes proceeding on a daily basis. Ernie coached even the more skilled magicians in ways to hone their technique from within the library. The less-skilled ones were advised to take their practicing outside to avoid any mishaps with Eike's precious books. Seeing Rody buried up to the neck in sand didn't provide him with an encouragement to observe Estella's techniques in person (her tutoring style definitely left something to be desired), but Yuiri and Yumi were more than happy to come down by the water and put on a small show for Dios (and Sasarai) of their best magical techniques.

They liked to get up early, so at seven sharp, Dios hustled Sasarai down through the cool morning air to take in this transplanted sprig of Alma Kinan skill and color. The sisters certainly were like two blossoms. Yuiri sped her shafts out over the water with a well-trained blast of wind and just as easily changed their path midflight to bring them back again. When Dios tried to compliment her, she insisted that she was actually somewhat rusty and that Yumi was far more skilled in the art of magic, which made Yumi blush and look away demurely.

"Well, let's see it then," Sasarai spoke up for the first time that morning since his groggy complaints to Dios about being woken up too early as he was hassled into washing up, dressing, and coming outside. The sharp tang of salt in the air stirred his senses and brought back memories of past visits to the Eastern Ocean. Until their approach to Budehuc, neither Dios nor Sasarai had ever seen the Western Ocean before. It was said to be much vaster than that to the east (Arradia was, after all, close enough to be a political consideration for Harmonia, so Dios could believe that).

"I've been experimenting with a jongleur rune lately," Yumi explained modestly as Yuiri pulled out a chair to take a seat beside Dios. "Nei introduced me to it. I thought it was just fascinating. ...But I'm not as good a singer as Nei, so don't expect too much."

"She's underestimating herself," Yuiri remarked quietly to the Harmonian men.

"Oh, you can't possibly sing worse than me!" Dios encouraged her.

"I've never heard you sing," Sasarai said, as though this fact was quite odd. Dios didn't see why- he had never heard Sasarai sing either. If you were likely to hear men sing near a battlefield, it was probably going to be the foot soldiers, not the commissioned officers.

"Anyway," Yumi was blushing a little, "I'm going to sing a song to improve my concentration so I can cast spells faster, and then I'll show off a few of my earth-related spells. You probably won't think much of them," she locked eyes with Sasarai, "Since you're an expert among experts, of course, but I hope at least I won't bore you. We Alma Kinan have worked out some unique styles and variations of our own."

"There's no need to apologize for yourself," Sasarai insisted. While interacting with these women he seemed to have brightened a little. The sun was shining on his face and his eyes no longer merely reflected that light, but glimmered, as they had before, with an inner luminescence. Here was something that had actually taken his mind off his brother and his loss.

Dios had sought out Yuiri and Yumi to engage in this demonstration primarily for his own benefit, but the night before, while looking forward to the events of the next morning, it had occurred to him how both magic and the graceful and mysterious women of Alma Kinan were of interest to his bishop as well, so he had resolved to try and revive Sasarai's natural good nature with this gathering as well as merely amuse himself. Things appeared to be going as well as he might've hoped.

Yumi began to sing, each clear note striking in the intensity of the morning air. Dios felt his hair began to stand on end. Sasarai felt his senses magically amplified. The words she was singing were beyond words. They were deeper, fuller, layered. With their aid, she conjured up the earth to do her bidding, splitting stones and shifting the plants and the terrain.

"I like that," Sasarai commented quietly as she used a vine like a whip. "I want to try that myself."

"I look forward to it," Dios encouraged him.

"As soon as I reclaim what is rightfully mine." Sasarai's small hands clenched into not especially threatening fists. "Perhaps I'll test it out on you first, Dios."

The bishop was joking, wasn't he? Dios certainly hoped he was. "Please don't, sir."

The Rules of the Game

"What do you think of their plans?"

Dios looked up, startled. Sasarai's approach had been uncharacteristically quiet. One of the wooden pieces of the Karayan war game he had been fiddling with fell from his hand and clattered across the desk to the floor. Sasarai bend down to pick it up, turning the small, carved figure over in his slim fingers. It was a delicately painted Lizard chieftain, identifiable by the long feathered headdress rendered in tiny strokes down its sides. Sasarai didn't know the name of this game, or the rules, but he had often glimpsed Geddoe and his crew engaged in a noisy bout or two of the curious strategy game in Anne's bar since arriving at Budehuc Castle. He placed the game piece back on the table. "Are you learning how to play?"

"Yumi's been trying to teach me, but I'm not quite sure I understand all of it." He shrugged and pushed the board gently aside, managing to keep most of the pieces in place. "And then there's the issue of how I never can tell when she's teasing me with a false rule."

"It seems as if dealing with subterfuge isn't one of your strong points, whether it's the actions of a friend or an enemy."

Dios frowned at this discovery of such a large crack in his armor of strategic skill. The machinations of the Masked Bishop...the surprise attack and assassination attempt by the Safir Clan...even the frivolous pranks of Nash and Nika...maybe there really was some substance to that accusation.

"Now, now. Don't let it get you down so. It's ten-thirty or so now and I only want to talk a little before I go off to bed."

It hurt him somewhat the way the bishop could be so oblivious, brushing away his subordinate's pain- or at least being completely unsympathetic to his bruised pride. "Well then," he responded hollowly, folding his hands. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"

"Like I said when I came in- your opinion on the plan our young Silverberg and the others had concocted for storming the Ceremonial Site and retrieving the Runes?"

He saw no need to mince words. Honesty was what Sasarai wanted and honesty was what he'd get. "It doesn't seem to me as if there's much of a plan to it," he answered flatly. "Charge in, throw all our force a them and what-not."

"Sounds like a classical Harmonian tactic if you've ever heard one, don't you think?" the bishop laughed lightly, only for his mirth to be cut short by a small escaping yawn.

"To some extent," Dios replied. He didn't see that there was much else to say about it. It was a simple plan, but was there really any need for a complicated one considering the situation? And even so, it wasn't their place to alter the strategies of the Fire Bringer. They should count themselves fortunate for merely being allowed to work alongside that mixed bunch as allies and not as hostages.

Sasarai was quiet after that, trying to think, but actually finding his mind drifting uncontrollably away toward sleep. His blinks grew longer and slower. His eyelids were heavy. Dios seemed quite alert and sensible, but without the True Earth Rune to support him, Sasarai found that he tired easily and that this hour was too late for him to be up attempting to engage in much serious thought. "Well," he said at last, "Have fun with your game. I hope you eventually figure it out. Then you can teach me."

"You like games, don't you? I heard you like Ritapon."

"Yes, a lot. I'm not always so good, but I like to think they let me have a little fun while keeping my mind sharp."

"Some probably do," Dios admitted.

Unopened

"Nash has almost completed his follow-up investigation. He sent you a preliminary report." Dios set the thick envelope on Sasarai's desk. He had accepted the packet from Mino on the front steps of the main Temple building. Apparently Nash had handled its passage all the way to Serif City, but after meeting there with Mino he had doubled back to take one last look at the quarters of the late Masked Bishop- Luc- in Campanella.

"You can open it," Sasarai shrugged. He leaned back in his chair and listened to the muffled echo of the bells ringing out the nine o'clock hour. This was the first day since his return form Budehuc that he had managed to drag himself into his office this early. With the heavy revelations that Luc had handed him still hanging weightily on his mind, he was having to readjust slowly to his everyday life at the Temple. He felt detached and uninterested in his work. He slept a lot.

"You're certain?" Dios hesitated. He didn't want to inadvertently see anything meant for Sasarai's eyes alone. He got the impression from Nika that occasionally Nash included personal notes.

"Please." The chair wobbled uncertainly on two legs and Sasarai allowed it to fall forward to its proper position. He didn't want to fall over and hit his head. It was all minor things in the physical category, but he had been banged up enough as it was over the last few weeks. He didn't need anymore pain, and he certainly didn't need anymore reason for his subordinates to worry about him.

"As you wish." Dios opened the off-white envelope and slid its contents out onto the desktop. There was a fairly comprehensive-looking report written up by the busy spy with a friendlier-looking note on colored paper pinned to the top, as well as a few maps, scratched up with all sorts of markings (hopefully Nash had inclined some sort of key to his chicken scratch), and finally a small, lavender-colored enveloped. It was this last item that captured Dios' interest. Sasarai _had_ authorized him to examine the items in the larger packet. He picked out the note and read the name of the sender write in a steady, feminine hand: Sarah. There was a faint scent clinging to the paper. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in the flowery aroma, trying to identify the specific bloom that had leant its essence to this perfume. Sweet peas, perhaps?

"Oh?" Sasarai finally seemed to see something that piqued his interest. "Is that a love letter or somesuch? Was it misplace or has Nash finally chosen to cast off his wife and swear his undying devotion to me?"

"Ha," Dios forced a laugh, "Very funny, sir. It's nice to see you exhibit such good humor. I'll take it as a sign you're feeling better."

"I still feel quite awful, thank you very much," the bishop huffed, crossing his arms. He was exaggerating a little out of spite, but he felt that so long as he was being bogged down by rough feelings, someone else should be aware of it and keep the kid gloves on with him.

"A pity," his chief of staff concluded. It was as much a pity that Sasarai persisted in wallowing in such emotions as it was that he felt them in the first place. "Anyway, this letter is from Sarah. She was the one with the...Masked Bishop, correct?"

Sasarai forgot his self-pity and startled upright. "Sarah? ...And the letter's directed to me?"

"Presumably so," Dios shrugged.

"H-has Nash written anything on the matter?" He snatched the pale envelope from Dios' hand.

"I can't say. I haven't pried into the contents of his missives." Even if he had planned to, he hadn't yet really had the time. He preferred Sasarai read his own mail anyway. Nash's manner of communication could be rather incomprehensible to him.

Sasarai scrutinized the handwriting on the envelope very seriously. Dios doubted that Nash would stoop so low as to joke about such a thing. Before she had gone on to meet her end along with her master, Sarah had probably written this missive and left it behind for Sasarai to find. Sarah's emotions at the Ceremonial Site had appeared markedly different from Luc's. It was little wonder that beyond the grave she might yet have something to say. Dios got the impression they might have spoken a few times before the war broke out in earnest. It made him curious, but he didn't want to press for details.

After what felt like a very long stretch of quiet in which Dios began to catch some fragments of the conversation going on in Hikami's office, Sasarai set the envelope back down on the desk unopened. Dios arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He had long possessed the necessary self-discipline to refrain from asking any questions even when his curiosity strained its bounds. Still...why did he set the letter down unopened? Was it something too private to be read in front of him? Somehow he suspected not.

Without comment, Sasarai moved on to other parts of the packet, flipping idly through Nash's report, reading only bits and pieces here and there. Dios wondered if he was waiting for him to leave. He wished Sasarai would speak up if that were the cast. This not knowing was tiresome. But the morning went by without comment from the bishop and when they left for lunch, the lavender envelope remained unopened.

The next day it was still there, although the rest of the packet was gone. "Are you having a hard time convincing yourself to look at that?" Dios didn't mean to be a bother, but if there was some way he could assist Sasarai- skim over the letter for him, perhaps- he would be happy to do so.

"It- it's not like there's any rush," Sasarai stammered. A hint of a blush might've crept up into his cheeks, but it melted away so quickly Dios could not say he was sure of its existence. "It's not as if she's waiting for a reply."

The room echoed with coldness. Sasarai winced even as he spoke the words. It was ill-omened to speak harshly of the dead. Dios' only relief came in seeing his bishop experience immediate regret. It was a shame it had to be that way. "I...I'm just not ready," Sasarai tried to smooth over his faux pas.

"I understand, sir." Dios allowed the matter to drop.

Sasarai took the letter out of the office to his bedroom that evening. He had no desire to repeat that morning's conversation. He tossed the envelope on top of his dresser, hoping to quickly lose sight of it under scarves and hairpins until he was forced to gaze upon it no more. It was an epistle sent from beyond the grave, probably with the purest of motives; he could not destroy it. It was a letter drafted by a pale and lovely enigma filled with unguessable emotions; he could not read it.

Nika did her job of tidying his quarters too efficiently. The letter was all too soon staring him once again right in the face. He could not bear it. He moved it back to his office and shoved it in a drawer and promptly smothered it with the full text of the Orsini Land Tax Reform Bill.

"Out of sight, out of mind," he reassured himself.

Three weeks later, Dios took it upon himself to read the Orsini proposition (_someone_ had to do it after all). Beneath its heap of pages the mutely pleading face of a familiar lavender envelope peeked out at him. Sasarai was out of the office. Dios picked it up. The wax seal remained unbroken. Still unread. He set it back down and closed the drawer. He could only help if Sasarai wanted him to help. He had to mind the proper boundaries.

He took the Orsini papers and carried them home to peruse at his leisure over a cup of tea.

**Flowering Casimari **

There were petals drifting in the harbor. A conflagration of yellows, reds, pinks, and oranges greeted Dios and Sasarai as their ship sailed in, the floral colors stretching out above and between the buildings. The architecture featured a mix of styles- whitewashed mainland Harmonian adobe and the traditional wooden structures of the island, along with a smattering of Falenan and Island Nations buildings put up by foreign imports. Within Harmonia, it was one of a kind (the slight distance separating Casimari from the mainland was enough to foster a unique culture that dated back to before the island was annexed by Harmonia).

Sasarai leaned against the railing, gazing into the water, watching shreds of blossoms bob up and down on the tide.

"The sea air is good for your health, isn't it? I heard from your servants that you frequent the coast," Dios leaned his arms on the metal beside him. "Are you a bit on the fragile side?"

"I suppose when I was a boy. ...I seemed hearty enough during the war, outside of situations outside of my control, didn't I?" Sasarai sounded a bit nervous at the idea that he might have presented a weak front during the war (though to who, Dios couldn't guess), "In any case, Dr. Miyo thinks what troubles I have these days are probably psychological."

The ship was moored with due ease and Dios walked ahead, carrying his bishop's luggage. He arranged for a chair to be set out for Sasarai by the sunshades in front of the inn that was putting them up. He thought Sasarai would appreciate the chance to rest before they went off to see whatever it was that had attracted him to this location. Long travels like this morning's (they had come straight from Fehnt after leaving Crystal Valley the day prior) tended to wear Sasarai out.

"Please, have a seat." Dios was glad that his bishop caught up with him just in time to benefit from his resourcefulness. Sasarai sat down and Dios sought out a chair to pull over to sit beside him.

"Aaah, Casimari!" Sasarai sighed contentedly, stretching his arms up over his head. His loose, white sleeves slipped down past his elbows.

Dios hoped he would take care not to let himself be overly exposed to the sun. His skin was quite pale. It was easy to tell he spent most of his time indoors. "I take it you have visited the island before, sir?"

"Just once, with the bishops Lord Heizan and Lord Gavelle. I was fortunate enough to receive permission to accompany them on a short business trip."

"I suppose you knew the climate and nature of this place then," Dios pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away a bit of sweat that was already beginning to coalesce on his brow, "I had heard about it, but that wasn't enough to convince me that such tropical conditions could exist anywhere in Harmonia."

"It's not quite tropical. Safia de la Croix has told me it's largely a result of the wind and ocean currents that such a place can exist at this latitude."

"She would know." Dios considered Admiral de la Croix and his daughter smart people, although he didn't hold the Harmonian navy in much higher regard than any other person affiliated with the standard (land-based) military did.

"So, are you enjoying yourself yet?"

It was relaxing seeing his bishop behave in such a laidback manner- that in itself was pleasant to Dios. "I'll probably get more into the Casimari spirit after I have an orange or two, but it is a delightful location."

"Are you sure the only specialty that's enticing you is oranges?" Sasarai laughed, "What about tanned women wearing flowers in their hair? What about drinks so fruity and sweet you won't realize you're drunk until you're knocked off your feet?"

"Mere distractions," Dios chuckled, "Temptations I can ill afford- both of them. I am here for one thing only- to enjoy the late spring sun and flowering trees with you."

"And for an orange or two?" Sasarai added, his teasing at its cheery gentlest.

"I'm willing to pass on the orange if necessary. ...The time with you, on the other hand, is non-negotiable."

"My," Sasarai grinned, "Such a gentleman! Clearly this is what's allowed you to captivate women from Beilan to Budehuc!"

"It really isn't anything as grand as all that..." Certainly a few select ladies had fallen for him, but they were more exceptions than the rule. He had never been popular with anyone. Sasarai didn't just see past his social ineptitude, he didn't appear to notice it in the first place.

The bells rang out from atop the Casimari Cathedral. "Three o'clock?" Sasarai counted out their number. "It seems like as good a time as any to get up and actually see the promised thousand flowering trees up close and personally, don't you think? We can make a long, leisurely tour of it and be back in time for a nice outdoor dinner."

"After you, sir," Dios stood and doffed his hat.

"Why thank you."

Without an invitation the bishop took his arm. "I imagine a short vacation is as good for your mental health as it is for mine."

Perhaps it was good that Sasarai had latched onto him. It forced Dios to slow to his companion's casual tourist pace. He reached over and touched Sasarai's small hand. "As I believe I said before, sir- just being around you is beneficial to me."

Hands

They often shook hands over a job well done if it was a task like this restructuring of the Central Regional Army that had taken several months to complete. Dios' hand was characteristically gloved. The white gloves were part of his uniform, but even on more relaxed occasions he was rarely seen without them. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with his hands- they were unscarred and showed a modest amount of labor handled in his lifetime- but he had grown so used to them gloved that he felt nearly naked touching the hand of a colleague, or worse, a stranger, with his bare skin.

Despite the mark of the True Earth Rune emblazoned on the back of Sasarai's right hand, he made no effort to hide the emblem, both burden and gift. Dios had never seen Sasarai wear gloves. He allowed anyone to whom he extended his hand to touch the mark of divine favor that heaven (in truth his father) had bestowed upon him. This was somewhat unorthodox behavior. The common people who received his touch seemed to regard this as an act of benevolence by a holy man. Sasarai had expressed some interest lately in meeting with Richard di Guido, a man called by the locals of the eastern foothills, "a saint in his time." He didn't seem to realize that some were beginning to say the same of him. He had a good reputation in the capital, and elsewhere. His lack of a name didn't hurt him any. He was seen as very accessible and close tot he common man.

On a sudden whim, Dios took the small hand he still held and pressed his lips to its back, passing it back to its owner after a light kiss. Sasarai laughed and rolled back on his heels like a child. How strange. How chivalrous. "Having a heart to heart with my second soul?"

"Two souls, you say?" Sasarai spoke of his True Rune only very infrequently. Even when it had been stolen from him, he had only mentioned sadly that he felt like a piece of him was missing. Dios had never pressed him on the matter, assuming it was too personal to discuss.

"Well, I have mine, do I not? And she has her own." He placed his hand across his chest and the rune showed itself with a slight glint. While Sasarai looked practically angelic like this, Dios found his comments rather unsettling. He had never given much thought to the nature of True Runes or their relationship to their bearers, but the idea of someone else within Sasarai, maybe even another personality, rather eerie. How did these two "souls" interact? Did two "souls" mean two minds as well? There it was again- he had learned sometime he would've preferred not to know if he'd had the choice. His stomach lurched slightly, but he held his ground.

"Is something bothering you?" Sasarai's hand fell to his side and he went on to express further concern over the sickly shade of green that had passed across his second's face. He refused to believe Dios' dim excuses of something he ate and he turned his own words over in his mind in search of a clue before settling on the matter of his rune. "Is it something regarding my rune?" He caught the flicker of a shadow in Dios' eyes and reached to take his gloved hand back, squeezing it firmly between his fingers. "It's nothing odd or eldritch like you might've imagined. Not ever properly a 'she,' Dios. More like an exceptionally developed slice of power and a part of my conscience."

Having been so shaken by his initial thoughts, Dios was not easily soothed- after all, if Sasarai had lived all of his life at one with this rune, how could he determine whether or not the arrangement was strange? But he wanted to be mollified, so he forced his mind to chase down the conclusion that best suited his goal of inner equilibrium. "Yes, I suppose I see better now. Having no experience of my own with even the most mundane of runes, I can't expect to understand." He tried to take deep breaths. He looked down at his hand, the glove sharply white beside the peach-almost tone of the Sasarai's bare fingers. He had nothing to hide, but he cloaked his digits in a veil of white cloth. The bishop had everything to conceal- for security, for strangeness, for exclusivity- but he left his hands bare. Dios could feel the press of his gold wedding band against his finger from the force of Sasarai's grasp. ...Under a glove he had masked that as well... Perhaps there was the error in his secrecy. There was the emblem of the "she" who had walked from his life. There was the crest of his "second soul." How was it that whenever he tried to understand Sasarai he ended up instead understanding himself?

Tomatoes of His Own

"Nika, I won't be in town this weekend." Dios shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, looking down into the small wooden box he held between his hands. Nika didn't want to be pushy, so she restrained her curiosity, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his face. "And I heard that His Excellency's birthday is on Saturday, so I was hoping you could hang onto this for me and give it to him on the twenty-seventh."

"A birthday present? How sweet! Of course," she perked up, reaching out to take the gift, "Of course I'll give it to him. He'll be so surprised." She didn't feel it was an exaggeration. He didn't receive many gifts and his birthday celebration was always kept a low-key affair. The box was open on top, so Nika took this opportunity to take a quick look at the contents: a small plant in a pot. From the shape of its leaves and the slightly sweet smell the farmer's daughter recognized it quickly: a tomato plant. "Is there anything in particular you want me to tell him?"

"Just 'happy birthday' will suffice," Dios shrugged.

"You know how much he likes tomatoes, don't you? He's going to love this."

"I learned at Budehuc," Dios reflected on their brief sojourn abroad. He had seen Sasarai do a lot of strange things there- engaging in all manner of frivolous activities he was unlikely to ever learn of the bishop's interest in under other circumstances. He had proved an awkward Romeo to Chris' Juliet, stiff and unable to fully connect with the drama (he had been taught to recite, but never to act) and later he had been banned from cleaning duties forever after the incident with the mop in the gallery. Seeing him with his sleeves rolled up, assisting Barts in the small square of tilled land had come as something of a shock. He was so casual as he washed a tomato, shined it against his uniform, and took a hearty bite. Nika might've scoffed at it as the dabbling of a sheltered man, something of a noble, in what was hard work for those who labored at it everyday, but Dios was well bred himself and took a less cynical view. The bishop was helping out and really enjoying himself at the same time. It was a heartening development. Some of the Grasslanders took a similarly favorable view of the act, seeing the potential for common ground with the hated Harmonian enemy. Sasarai was a Harmonian commander and he loved the earth as well as they did.

"I...It's embarrassing to say, but I didn't care for you much at first," Nika admitted, scuffing her feet awkwardly. "It's different now. I've gotten to know you and you're a good person. And, importantly, you're very good to Sasarai."

"I hope you have a nice time celebrating his birthday," Dios replied. He didn't respond directly to her confession. He knew it was hard enough for her to say that as it was and that she didn't want a response. She smiled at him. He tipped his hat and turned to walk away. He had some family business to attend to in Beilan, so he expected to be away from the capital for at least a week.

Sasarai loved the tomato plant. He wrangled with the gardeners, used to planting everything on the grounds in a very particular pattern and style corresponding to the season, to get it as close to his quarters as possible while still receiving the maximum amount of sunlight. As such, the tiny plant ended up situated directly across from his window between a small purple mallow bush and a patch of blue violets. It was far enough from the shade of the Holy Tree to soak up a decent amount of sun and had space to spread out its limbs about half a foot in every direction, though he expected it would follow the course of most tomato plants and reach toward the sun. He had already raided the gardening shed for some sticks and twine for creating a makeshift trellis when the time came to help prop it up.

The gardeners were alternately amused and annoyed by his constant venturing out into the grounds to sit beside his plant, watering it or simply looking at it. Only the head gardener could recall the days of Sasarai's boyhood when he had also engaged in such energetic gardening activity. As a small boy he had often poked about in a spare bit of soil, planting carrots and marigolds and tending to them each day. He seemed to have a real connection with plants and nature, happy to talk to his plants, read beside them, or even just sit alongside them. It had to have been at least fifteen years since he had seen Sasarai behaving so eccentrically over a plant. It seemed right- almost like a return to his true nature that had been lost for so long in the demands of his distinguished position. The gift Dios had given him was already having an effect much wider in scope than its giver could've realized. And this was before even the first tomato had ripened.

Occasionally Sasarai invited Dios out to see the tomato plant. Dios was impressed by its growth. It was just mid-June, but the tomato plant had come a long way from the tiny sprig of greenery it had started as. It had bushed out and up along the scraggly trellis Sasarai had built for it. The stem had widened from its thin pencil size to a thicker support nearly three times its original width. Several large branches hung low to the ground, stretching into the nearby violets. The leaves were lush and vivid, a deep vibrant green.

In the mornings, dew clung to the leaves. The yellow of the sun reflected in each round drop. Sasarai knelt down on the soft ground, feeling his sandals dig textured imprints into the soil, going down so deep that the brown dirt brushed the bottoms of his toes where they hung over the front of the sandals. He liked the feeling of bare earth beneath his toes, but when the ground was this moist, he couldn't come out barefoot unless he was prepared to wash off the soles of his feet before returning to the interior of the Temple. He would not make any friends, either among the cleaning staff or his fellow clerics, by tracking dirt across the crystal tile.

"Ah!" he gasped in delight at the sight of several white buds, clustered on a single stem on one of the side branches. He hadn't seen them the day before. That was one of the joys of gardening- seeing all the little changes that occurred from one day to the next. It was rare for a person to being able to observe their own growth on such a short time basis (not to mention near impossible for Sasarai), but the lives of plants moved at a greater speed and day by day, week by week, they revealed their beautiful destiny for all the world.

"Little green tomatoes, huh?" Nika observed, coming out to bring the bishop some lunch. He had set up with a towel on the lawn to try his hand at some haphazard watercolor painting to immortalize his tomato growing of this spring and summer. Sister Bati had loaned him the painting equipment- a set of eight cakes of pigment and several fine brushes. His makeshift desk was a dictionary of Old Arradian propped on top of several smaller books. He was trying to treat Sister Bati's items gently, but going lightly on the brushes grew harder and harder as he was struck with the undeniable knowledge of how inartistically inclined he appeared to be.

Nika set down the basket and looked over his shoulder at the painting. The paper was heavy with water, which formed dips in some parts of the page, making them stick to the book underneath. Nika hoped he wasn't very attached to the dictionary- or at least its cover- because it looked likely to suffer some water damage. The noon sun was doing little to dry his work. "Maybe you should make the tomatoes more circular," she suggested.

"I've tried," he sighed, "But they don't come out symmetrical and when I try to smooth them out, I end up turning them into ovals."

"Oh." She could hear the frustration in his tense voice, so she didn't want to press the issue. Instead, she headed back towards the Temple, stopping to rub her fingers lightly over one of the leaves to pick up its scent. She held the fingers to her nose and closed her eyes, breathing in the rich, fresh aroma. The leaves smelled just like the ripe tomatoes would when they grew fat and crimson, bulging with sun-nourished energy. "I like this smell."

He put the wooden end of the brush in his mouth and then pulled it abruptly away as he realized what he was doing. Luckily he hadn't gone so far as to bite it or anything. ...He'd wipe it off later and hope that Sister Bati wouldn't notice. "I think you'll be smelling a lot of it soon enough," he replied. He didn't want her to go off thinking he was ungrateful. It was just that his clumsy artistic efforts were leaving his patience a bit frayed. "Thank you for indulging me," he settled on.

"Yeah, you're welcome. I like indulging you," she smiled, casting one last glance over his amateur painting. "Maybe you should add some more yellow," she ventured another suggestion.

He squinted at the rather flat-looking composition before him. Yellow. Well, what would it hurt?

"Dios, Dios, take some tomatoes with you!" Sasarai hurried to catch up to his chief of staff as he left the office. He scooped the woven basket he had been keeping the ripe tomatoes in and stretched it out in front of his friend. "So many are ripening so fast now that I can't seem to think of enough ways to eat them all."

"I've never had so much salad in one week in my life," Nika added from her position off to the side, labeling envelopes.

Dios reached in and picked out one particularly appealing specimen. The brilliance of its color was glowed greater against the pure white of his glove. "Thank you. I'm glad to see you have so much fun." He sniffed the tomato and vaguely wondered if part of the special appeal of tomatoes was that they didn't have the extra-sweet or tart scents of other fruits and vegetables, but that instead they held the refreshing smell of the sun.

"Please," Sasarai insisted. He was still holding out the basket before him. "Take more than one."

"Heh heh," Dios chuckled, "If you say so, sir," and picked out two smaller ones to make an awkward handful. A salad tonight didn't sound so bad after all.

Evolving Interview

"May I ask you a question, Bishop Cabrini? Entirely for statistical reasons, of course," Dios approached the matter diplomatically, smiling over his clipboard.

"Fire at will, Captain." Ket tipped him a cavalier nod.

Dios fought back a grimace. He held no delusions that Ket would appreciate his inquiry anymore than Bishop Kaeyani or Bishop Gavelle had, but he had started on this painful endeavor and there was no way he was going to stop now that he had put his most dangerous subject behind him. "To the best of your knowledge, do you know if there are any parks or buildings or bridges named after you?"

"This is a Sasarai tactic," Ket replied coolly. His casual demeanor had transformed instantly into an icy shell of offensive energy. Dios wasn't the source of this attack- Ket knew that unquestionably. He saw straight through to Sasarai. He could practically picture him now, sitting in his room, leisurely reading through missives from his multitude of foreign contacts. That stuck up brat. Couldn't even do his own dirty work.

Dios shifted his papers uncomfortably. Ket had chosen not to impale him with his gaze, having tipped his face down in stormy thought. Should he ask again or wait and see what Ket would say next?

"There's a 'Cabrini Bridge' in Oslot," he grumbled out at last, "But I was naming it in honor of my parents, not out of misguided self love, like your bishop is probably thinking. We don't all want a seat just to get our name preserved on a plaque."

"I...I know." It was a bitter feeling to acknowledge this truth with Ket. It was not as if Sasarai thought that about his fellow Counsel members anyway, but compared to Kets assessment of his colleagues, he came unbearably close. No one was without prejudices, himself included, but those of your close friends were the most painful to bear. "I'm only asking so that we can compare."

"Between us? Oh!" Ket lit up with a mind full of leads, "...Sasarai. I almost forgot. This is about Sasarai. Someone named something after him. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Ket's hard edge softened to one of pleasure. Time for a little schadenfreude. Sasarai was such a pain. The only one he was torturing was himself if he couldn't just accept the good fortune he had received. "This is gold. So, tell me, Mr. Mikhail. I wanna know what it is."

"His namesake is a child."

That wasn't what he was expecting. There couldn't really be any gloating over this. It was something pure and sincere and out of his hands. "...What sort of people did that?"

The bells rang the hour. It was two in the afternoon. He hadn't been expecting to spend this long with Ket. Perhaps it was because he had anticipated Ket storming off already at some point. "A sort of peasant couple of mixed background. From the west-central area past Serif."

"As far as I know, the only other one with a namesake," Ket divulged quietly, "Is Gavelle." The force of his anger had drained away and in its wake he was solemn, almost sad.

Dios watched him and wondered if he were jealous. "Lord Gavelle didn't mention anything about that."

"...Heh. He probably isn't even trying to be modest. He just forgot or something." Ket drummed his fingers along the table. Thinking of Gavelle's oncoming senility made him smile again. Gavelle was pretty likable, but these days he was staring to seem like something of a relic. "I think his namesake's practically thirty now!" Ket laughed at his own realization.

"Are you talking about Piero Hadasa?" Sasarai broke in as he entered the room.

Ket nodded. The appearance of Sasarai didn't appear to sour his mood any. He was actually glad to see his colleague step out and possibly take some of the responsibility for his inquiries onto himself.

"I was wondering about you, Dios. I thought you would've finished up earlier and we would have tea together..."

"It takes as long as it takes, sir, but we could still have tea if you'd like."

"Are you and Ket finished?"

"Yeah, we're done with this," the dark-haired bishop spoke up, injecting his feelings where the chief of staff's was expected.

Dios and Sasarai exchanged a puzzled glance. Sasarai did not know it, but Dios felt that Bishop Cabrini had shown himself to be very complex that day. "Would you..." he followed up on this feeling, "Like to join us for tea, Lord Cabrini?"

"If I'm not offending your boss- you know you might be being a bit presumptuous to ask that on your own- I'll come."

"Sasarai?" Dios turned, hoping he had not done anything that would offend. He thought he had come to know Sasarai well enough for that. He had not considered it as going out on a limb with anyone but Ket.

Sasarai did not accept instantly, but appeared to be thinking about it. The political and strategic cogs in his mind were turning. It was naive to consider Sasarai any less cunning than Ket. Chances were he was more so. "Yes, you can come. We'll go to my favorite cafe. And don't worry about the cost, Ket. This will be my treat."

Edelkeit

The house was dismal without Kina or the children to fill it with energy and excitement. With all the things Kina had taken away with her when she left it was fairly empty too. Dios looked with distaste on the pale spaces were furniture had once sat but now stood out with their excruciating emptiness ringed by shadow outlines of dust. It was bad enough that he had come down with such a nasty cold, but having to deal with it within the confines of this mausoleum to a happy family life was almost more than he could handle. One's mental condition certainly went a long way toward determining how devastating the impact of illness would be. In brighter days he might've proceeded to his office on the Temple grounds to take care of whatever business from Sasarai awaited him despite the cold. It might've been a little uncomfortable, and no doubt Nika would've teased him about taking care not to sneeze on her and spread his cold to everyone in the Temple, but at least he would've been doing something productive...At least he would be feeling happy.

From his place now, lying on his stomach on the old couch, he felt so useless and depressed it was hard to imagine he could ever return to being his usual determined and optimistic self. Dios had always know that life could be hard, but this... This was... All his thoughts trailed away, fading into nothingness. What was the point? Nothing he told himself could make it any better. His head ached, his face ached, his nose was so stuffed up he could barely breathe, and he hadn't eaten anything since he woke up in the morning and burned himself a piece of toast. He'd eaten the toast and hadn't made himself anymore, sitting alone at the table and feeling as though he didn't deserve any better.

The twelfth bell was ringing. He could hear the bells echoing from the Temple as well as St. Ollisto's: brang brang brang. The bells of St. Ollisto's were tinnier and slightly off key. It was seven o'clock. Under any other circumstances he'd have been dying of hunger by this point in the day, but this time was different. Just lying here was all he could manage. Even if there were someone to whip up a feast for him, he wasn't sure he could summon the necessary appetite to eat it. Hmm... Maybe he should drag himself off the couch and at least have some herbal tea to try and clear his head.

Getting up was harder than it should've been. First, he slid his feet to the ground and gradually he convinced the rest of his body to follow them. He dragged his feet as he moved, sniffling, toward the kitchen. At least for now, he was resigned to being miserable.

And then there was a knock at the door. He felt his heart rise in anticipation. It could be Kina. ...It could be anyone.

He raced to the door and wiped his dripping nose with his handkerchief, smiling at whoever had come to visit him before the door was even half open, then beaming sincerely as the round face and wide eyes that greeted him. "Sasarai!"

"Good evening," the bishop answered and help up a small package wrapped in a checkered cloth, "May I come in? I brought you some baked feelings."

"Please do, please do," Dios ushered him through the doorway, already beginning to sense his appetite returning. He sniffled and smiled again, watching Sasarai as he strolled comfortably through the house like he owned the place, when in actuality he had only visited two or three times before. Dios hadn't been able to smile before, when he was alone, but now, allowing his face to take that cheerful expression lifted his mood at least a little bit. "What are 'baked feelings?'" he had to ask next, "Are they more like baked potatoes or some kind of rolls?"

"Look and see for yourself," Sasarai invited him, setting the package down and unwrapping it to reveal half a dozen steaming pastries. They smelled like cherries.

"These smell absolutely heavenly, sir. They look nice too. I can tell they're good feelings." Bit by bit, Sasarai was buoying up his spirits. He had often found it hard to resist his bishop's easy good will at times like these. It was probably a positive thing. Who else was going to stop by his house unexpectedly to bring him a little happiness? Certainly not any of military colleagues...or Kina.

"You're looking a bit pale, Dios," Sasarai chattered on, thinking that blithely confronting his low mood head on would be the best way to deal with it. Based on what he had heard so far, some directly from Dios and some in little bits and snatches of rumor in the Temple, it was unlikely this marital dilemma would be permanently resolved anytime soon- at least not in the way Dios wanted it to. Kina wouldn't have bothered to leave if she hadn't meant the move to be decisive. She was no wilting daisy, but a cultured rose, thorns and all.

"My head's in a cloud," he mumbled.

"I thought it might be something like that. You have a bad cold?" Dios nodded. "Well, I brought over these things and I thought I might cook you up a warm meal to make you feel better. A little hot food has often gone a long way towards brightening my mood when I was sick. And you should know that I'm quite an expert on dealing with illness," he fixed his subordinate with an almost mischievous look.

It was an odd look to tack onto the comment he had just made although Dios must certainly did know what he was talking about. "I didn't know you could cook, Your Excellency," the blonde man admitted. The main keeper of the Temple kitchens was the aging Sister Bati, but other helpers and servants also worked there. While on occasion one might happen upon one or another of the priests or bishops tackling some culinary task within, they were likely to have previous experience in a kitchen from some other part of their life. Sasarai, on the other hand, had always lived at the Temple and had always had other people handy to take care of him. When left without anyone to clean up after him for more than a week his quarters became atrociously disorderly. Cooking seemed an unlikely skill.

"Oh, I can cook," Sasarai turned up his nose proudly, "I may not be called upon much for such trivial things, but I know how to whip up a little soup and toast for a sick friend."

Well, if he said so, Dios wasn't about to argue over it. "I never realized," was all he said.

"Now then, why don't you go back to the couch and make yourself comfortable! You should take off your boots if you want to put your feet up like that. Just because you're alone here doesn't mean you don't need to take good care of your furniture. If Kina came back, wouldn't she be shocked to see you moping around like that? She'd probably storm right back out the door in surprise!"

It was a convincing argument. Dios allowed Sasarai to fuss over him as he removed his heavy, black military boots and settled back onto the couch, sitting up this time. Like a mother hen Sasarai bustled about, clucking at the sad state of affairs that Dios had managed to get himself into in such a short amount of time. He came back from the linen closet with a tattered blanket, the only thing remaining there besides some striped dishtowels, and gently tucked it around his subordinate. Dios felt himself blush as Sasarai's delicate hand brushed against his cheek as he reached to position the blanket just so. He was saved some embarrassment by the fact that his current ill health could be used to explain the gradual flush.

"And I'm off to the kitchen!" the bishop pronounced loudly, spinning on his heel and marching out of sight. His departure was immediately followed by a banging of pots and pans that made Dios wince. He had to restrain himself from getting up to help his superior officer find the tools he needed. It was just that it was difficult to sit quietly by and do nothing while such a commotion was rattling on.

However, the racket quieted quickly enough, followed by more routine sounds of cooking (except for the part where Sasarai apparently used a little magic to jumpstart the stove, sending a hiss of rapidly heated metal and the red glow of the rune out into the hallway for Dios to observe) and eventually a light, salty aroma. Dios couldn't say how he'd done it, but when Sasarai emerged again, it was with a small panful of simmering noodle soup in his oven-mitted hands.

He was just about to pronounce it exquisite and remark on the bishop's unexpected burst of talent, when Sasarai reminded him of something very important to do before praising a dish, to taste it. "Have a taste before you start complimenting me. I've been known to mess this up before."

Well, he hadn't this time. Sasarai went back into the kitchen to bring out the cherry pastries, some bowls, and utensils and sat down with his friend on the couch to share a bite or two. The warmth of the soup crept into his body and the steam began to clear his blocked sinuses, causing his nose to drip a little faster. Sasarai didn't seem to mind seeing him dab at it and encouraged him not to be so apologetic about something he couldn't help. It was all a wonderfully comforting and homely experience. An echo of the nahbe soup his mother used to make sprang to his mind. While Kina had looked after him those rare times he had fallen ill during their marriage, Sasarai had the tender touch so like his mother's that Kina had lacked.

"You're a saint," he declared at the end of the meal. It was an exaggeration of course, but he felt there were no other words that would adequately express his gratitude to Sasarai at this rough spot in his life. Just by being there, he had made such a difference. And that there were still plenty of pastries left over to eat later, perhaps for breakfast, as well as some soup he could reheat the next day didn't hurt at all.

"I just hope you don't mind if I left the kitchen a little sloppier than I found it," Sasarai shrugged modestly.

"It doesn't matter as long as there's nothing out that will attract rats. I'll clean it up when I'm feeling a bit better."

He would've seen the bishop to the door- it wasn't far at all- but Sasarai convinced him to stick to his resting place. There was no point in disturbing him now that he'd settled down and the sooner Sasarai was out the door, the sooner he said Dios could catch up on some much needed rest.

What a singularly unique experience that had been, Dios reflected once left to his own devices. Almost too good to be true!

And indeed, in some ways it was. The following morning, Dios ventured into the kitchen to find the sink piled with unwashed dishes.

**Your New Resolution**

"It's a bit late for breakfast," Dios remarked as Nika swept into Sasarai's quarters with a small tray in her arms. The bells had marked just minutes ago the arrival of ten o'clock.

"He slept late enough," she shrugged. "He can eat when he likes."

"It is, after all, a light breakfast," Sasarai spoke up on his own behalf.

Nika laughed at Sasarai's typical audacity in dealing with his new, favored subordinate. It might still be a bit difficult for Dios to understand, but she had spent over a decade serving the bishop and it was clear to her how much Sasarai liked him. "One bowl, one cup of tea," Nika announced to back up Sasarai's words.

"Thank you," he primly accepted the tray and smiled after her, waiting until she was gone from the room before tossing a quick blessing over his meal and beginning to eat.

"You do realize that you are a uniquely kind and capable individual, do you not?" the bishop asserted over his bowl of dried fruit and oatmeal. "I appreciate the many things you do for me. I watch you at work every day and I don't think you see this."

"Belief trumps the facts nearly every time, sir," Dios replied, settling down into a padded blue chair facing the bed with a pair of newspapers under his arm. He would probably scan them carefully for any references to his bishop and then analyze whatever they had to say. It was one of his forms of diligence. There was little to be done for opinions, but if the facts were butchered, he would send in corrections. Sasarai found it embarrassing, but Dios insisted that all the other bishops had people set seriously to the same task. One never knew what kind of nonsense was being spread in the non-state-sponsored periodicals of the day. Just because they still had official permission to print didn't mean they were safe. The censors could not be bothered to check all the facts above every name-dropped individual every day of the week or even once a month- with the increase in printing technology, there were just too many publications to approve (or not).

"I think you should make that your new resolution, Dios," Sasarai paused with the spoon halfway between the bowl and his lips. An exotic fragment of dried mango slid off of the mushy oatmeal and back into the bowl with a small splash. Although, technically, he had good manners, the bishop always operated in his own way. Dios found that outside a few select situations were he was terribly distractible (like a child).

"Make what my resolution?" He was missing something here, wasn't he? He was already taking care of this thing with the local newspapers without any special instructions.

"To believe in yourself, Dios. To have faith in your own capabilities. Because they're present, whether you acknowledge them fully or not."

Dios could feel his face starting to burn. He buried it behind the crinkly, gray paper in his hands. "Honestly. What a thing to be told by my boss."

"Is that bad? Then consider it something you've been told by your friend."

"...I can't decide," Dios flushed further, although now his embarrassment was hidden from Sasarai's sparkling eyes, "If that's better or worse."

"It's better," Nika re-entered the room without warning, "Now, thank the bishop."

Sasarai just laughed.


End file.
